I Wish I Knew Where We Went Wrong
by SusyCares
Summary: Brittany knows that Santana and her are growing apart and so she is trying to save their relationship by making love to her one last time. She is remembering the times before everything changed and Santana started to slip away.


**A/N:**

**This is a fill for the GKM.  
><strong>**Prompt: "Kay, so I want something a little bittersweet. Set some time before the whole Bartie thing, maybe even just a week or two before, I want... something of a lament...  
><strong>**Okay, so, Santana in a baggy t-shirt and white panties sleeping over at Britt's house... well, i guess the particulars don't matter, I just want San looking fragile and innocent, and long story short, Britt makes love to her in silence while thinking of happier times.  
><strong>**References to Santana being a shy child and Brittany being a bit like Calvin(Calvin&Hobbes) would be pretty sweet."**

**And I am a total sucker for constructive criticism. So please tell me, if you think something is off or if I could have done something differently. **

* * *

><p>I wish I knew where we went wrong. She probably does. She knows so much, so much more than I do. But even if she knows, where everything changed, she wouldn't tell me. She always guards me from the truth if she thinks that it is going to hurt me. And it would hurt so much to know what I did, that caused us to end up here.<p>

I'm still looking at the door, she left through, when she went to the bathroom.

I miss her.

I miss her so much.

She comes back into my bedroom still wearing that light blue shirt I bought on a cruise I took with my family. I got an extra-large because I thought it would motivate Lord Tubbington to lose some pounds if I gave him a shirt that was too small for him. It didn't work and he never wore it. One day Santana just kind of claimed it as her sleeping shirt.  
>Dusk begins to fall and the dim light gives her an indescribable glow. The shirt is covering her tiny frame and I can hardly make out her female curves. If it wasn't for her tight pony tail, she would look so much like the little girl she was when I first met her. The lonely and shy girl that felt so broken inside because nobody loved her.<p>

We had a tough day at school and Sue didn't go easy on us either. But I see in her eyes, her beautiful, hurt, and lost eyes that these things didn't break her. They could never break her. What did finally break her today was the same thing that kept hurting over the past years. Ever since we started high school a little piece of her heart broke away every time Kurt was thrown into the dumpster, was called a faggot or someone deliberately bump into him in the hallway. She never said anything about it, because she wanted to protect me from that kind of pain but I always knew. I always saw it in her eyes, felt it in the desperate way her pinky held on to mine. All these years and I never found a way to help her. I tried but I guess I'm just not a smart enough person; maybe someone else could have helped her.

It was simpler when we were kids. Back then I was able to help her through the pain, but of course it was a different kind of pain. We met on the playground. She was there by herself. Well, not entirely, we were only five-year-olds. She was there with one of her nannies. She had a lot of them, one for the weekends, one for the first half of the day and one for the second part of the day during the week. None of them stayed long, most of them left after a couple of months. I was there with my dad but he only sat on the bench reading his paper and not paying any attention to me.  
>That's how I got on top of that tree next to the slide. From there I saw her sitting on the monkey bars all by herself. I watched her for a few weeks from ever changing positions. I would climb trees, hide behind bushes or blend in with other children. It's not like I had anything else to do. I didn't have friends to play with but neither did she. She always just sat on the same monkey bars, never talking to anybody. I was getting braver and braver each day until I was trying to watch her from the tree right next to the monkey bars, I was only about ten feet away from her. But ten feet were not enough. I wanted to see more of these lonely eyes that always had the same expression of feeling out of place. So I moved closer and closer to the edge of the branch until it was too thin to hold my weight and it broke. I crashed down on the ground next to her and immediately started to cry. Suddenly she was next to me and softly said: "Stop crying, please."<p>

These were the first words she ever said to me and we were inseparable from that moment on. We climbed tree together but she always watched out for me and warned me when I came to close to the edges. I never fell off a tree again. We even built a tree house, just the two of us. The tree house was incredible. It had a living room, a kitchen and even a bedroom. She kept telling me that it wasn't enough to write the name of a room on a board nailed between two branches. She said it needed some sort of furniture to really be a room but she was a whole year younger than I was, so I didn't believe her. I always had the feeling that she saw the world differently. Where I saw adventures and discoveries, she mostly saw nothing. She always tried though and the few times when she really didn't get it all, she always pretended and played along.

When we started elementary school we spend the whole day together. We had the same classes and afterwards we would play outside until it was time for me to go home. She would always get that sad look on her face when I had to leave, it wasn't until later that I understood that she had it because she knew that she had to go home to an empty home, a house where a nanny would make her dinner and send her to bed without a bedtime story or even a good-night kiss. Other than that school was good, she would pass me all the answers to these mean math quizzes and I would yell at the teachers that tried to make her read something to the class or even stand in front of everybody to recite a poem.

My parents really liked her, they thought of her as a good influence on me. I guess they hoped that she would help to calm me down a bit. I never met her parents until she had her Quinceañera. I didn't need to meet them to know that I didn't like them. I even hated them because they made her into that shy, self-conscious girl that felt like no one loved her. The closest thing she had to a family member that cared about her, was her abuela. Her abuela was a mean lady but at least she cared enough to criticize everything she did. The tragic thing was that Santana mistook that for love and affection.

I loved every second I got to spend with her and I know that she felt the same, because that sad, lonely and hurt look in her eyes disappeared when she was with me. We discovered new places and new animals together, made friends with snow men and even started to build a time machine, sadly we still haven't finished it. We're still missing a unicorn hair to make it work.  
>I don't know when it changed from loving to spend time with her to loving her, I just know it did. It came naturally. She was the first hand I held, the first hug I received, the first kiss on the cheek, my first real kiss and the first time I made love to someone. All these are the best memories I have; all my important memories revolve around her.<p>

I get up from my bed and walk over to her, but the hurt and the sorrow in her eyes remains. I softly graze her cheeks and let my hands slide over her hair to loosen her pony tail. Now her wavy black hair flows freely around her face. I touch her cheeks and she looks so fragile that it hurts me to see her like that. She lifts her hand to cup mine and leans her head into my palm. I kiss her forehead, take her hand and guide her to the bed. I sit down on the edge and motion her to sit on my lap. She does so never breaking eye contact. Her shirt rides up revealing the white boy shorts she is wearing. She rests her head on my shoulder and we stay like that. Her hands are firmly wrapped around me and I slowly caress her back while our breathing synchronizes. Everything about her screams out how broken she is. She needs me to piece her back together, to fix her. I know that I cannot do that for her. Only she can fix herself but that doesn't mean that I won't try to help her.

I slip my hands under her baggy shirt and she loosens her embrace to look at me. I hold her gaze and lie down on the bed pulling her down with me to turn us over, so that I'm on top of her. I love to feel her body so close to mine. We fit together perfectly. I stroke a strand of hair out of her face and kiss her forehead again. Then I kiss her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks, her chin, I pepper her whole face with tiny kisses before I finally meet her lips in a kiss. We don't move, we just enjoy the feel of our lips. When I feel her hands on my back pulling me closer into her, I slowly open my lips to have my tongue beg entrance to her mouth, which she quickly grants. The kiss starts slowly but passionate. I need her to understand how much this means to me. How thankful I am to be with her in this moment. I keep kissing her. And we just kiss. Minutes go by and we are still only kissing each other, like we used to do when it was only me and her - only me making love to her, not Puck or any other boys. It was so beautiful before we started fooling around with other people. We used to cuddle and make out for hours. Sometimes we would make love, sometimes it was enough to fall asleep spooning. But that changed and suddenly we didn't make love anymore and we hardly ever cuddled, it was just sex. It always felt like she tried to fuck the feelings away. But not tonight. Tonight I was going to make love to her. I will show her how much she means to me. How much I need her.

I stop kissing her and lift my head a little bit to look into her eyes. She isn't even trying to hide her feelings anymore. The sadness has taken over her face but at the same time I can see the devotion she hold for me. In this moment I can feel that she loves me and that makes her look so innocent to me. Because I also know that this love she has for me, is too much for her to handle.

I need to make her feel better. "Santana, I ..." I begin but she shakes her head and presses her lips on mine to silence me. I understand and start to deepen the kiss. I move my hands back under her shirt. I graze her smooth skin of her abdomen and slowly start to lift the hem of her shirt. Inch by inch I reveal more of her flawless skin and when I start to uncover her breast she lifts herself of the mattress so that I can take her shirt completely off. I take a moment to enjoy the view before me. Her perfect breast on her perfect body. She starts to blush because of my stare and it makes me smile. I love this side of her, the side of her that deeply appreciates the adoration I hold for her because a small part of her still feels like she doesn't deserve love. But I am always there to show her otherwise, only I can give her the love she needs.

I kiss her again and start tailing kisses down her jaw line, move on to her neck and end up in the valley between her breasts. I slowly lick her skin. I love the way she tastes, it is unlike anything else I have ever tasted. It's just so Santana. I start circling her left boob with my tongue until I reach her nipple. I put my lips around it and start sucking on it. Her heavy breathing now changes into quiet moans. Her breast and her nipples are so sensitive, it's unbelievable. I once made her come by only playing with her breast. My mouth releases her nipple to give the same attention to the right boob. She sighs at the loss of contact and I palm her left breast to make up for it. While I flick my tongue over her right nipple, my fingers are rolling her left one. Her moans get louder and I feel reassured. I gently bite down on her nipple and she yelps out in pleasure. Only I can do this to her. Only I know exactly what to do. And it's not even because we have so much practice at sexy times, no I just always knew what to do, just like she knew where and how to touch right from the beginning.

I keep playing with her breast and start moving my hips. I grind against her because she needs the friction. She needs to feel me all over her; she needs to feel me loving ever part of her. Her moans give me the tinkles and know that wetness is pooling in my panties. The heat her core is emitting isn't helping either.

I lift my head to look into her eyes again. She has them closed and her hands are still on my back, strongly holding on to me. The hand that was fondling her breast is now slowly moving downwards and I'm still looking at her face. She knows that I want to see her eyes when I first touch her, so she opens them. I smile at her while my hand finds its way between her legs and under her boy shorts. I slide my finger into her wetness and she grasps for air. Her pupils are dilated. I can see her soul, just like it used to be. My fingers are coated in her arousal and find her clit. At first I do nothing but simply pressing onto it. I want her to feel me. I want her to look into my eyes and know that I am responsible for the amazing feeling that now spreads through her body. I slowly and gently start rubbing over her clit. Her moans turn into sharp breaths and little jolts of screams. The intimacy of this moment has her so close to the edge already. That's another thing only I do to her. She doesn't let anybody else this close to her. It has been a long time since she let me take care of her like that. It used to always be like this, but that was before everything changed. I enjoy this moment for exactly what it is. Reliving memories of better times.

I am still holding her gaze and can see the need in her eyes. She needs to come, she needs to let herself go and I want to give that to her so badly. So I slide two fingers into her. I feel the tightness around my finger. She is so wet and so ready for me that I can slide in and out of her easily. I soon add a third finger and her moaning becomes louder. She is so tight and yet my fingers fit perfectly into her. It's like we were made for each other. It doesn't matter if we're spooning, kissing, linking pinkies or if we're inside each other. It always feels natural, like that's exactly how it's supposed to be. Her eyes tell me that she is right at the edge; she just needs a last little push.

I flick my thumb across her clit and kiss her at the same time. Her walls clench around my fingers, her hips buck up, only being held down by my weight on her body, and her screams are muffled by me kissing her. I'm kissing her with my eyes open, hers are open, too. She does this for me, I want to see her eyes when she's coming. I keep my fingers inside her while she is riding out her orgasm. I need to be as close to her as possible. I need to because I know what's coming next.

I knew it since I saw that look on her face when she came back from the bathroom. I knew the look would come back, I knew that I wouldn't be able to fix her and I didn't fix her. She is staring at me, silent tears running down her face. She is too broken to really do this with me. To really be us. I lost her. Today I really lost her. I felt her slipping away and tried to stop it. But I couldn't do it. This was my last chance to show her that I can be enough for her and it did not work.

I slowly pull my fingers out of her and quickly wipe her cum on the bed sheet. I then take my hand to her face to stroke her cheeks while I'm kissing away her tears. Her breathing is calming down but her tears are not.  
>I roll off her. We lay next to each other, not touching, just staring at the celling. I want to roll over, put my head on her chest and listen to her heart beat while I lazily trace random pattern on her skin. I want it so much. I want it to be like it was back when everything was good. But it's no use anymore.<p>

I open my mouth to tell her that I love her, more than I ever loved anything. I want to tell her that she everything that's good in this world, because she keeps me grounded and protects me. But I want to protect her, too. I don't want her to hurt, so I say nothing. She's not ready to hear the things I feel out loud.

So I just lie next to her while she is crying.

I miss her.


End file.
